A/N I would just like to apologise for the time skips I use. Writing what every day or every two days is like is tough in a story that has to take place over a longer period of time. To keep it interesting for me to write (so it doesn't take me 7 months to update) and so it doesn't completely drag on for readers, time skips are the only solution. I really hope they aren't annoying or horrible for you, please tell me if they are and I'll try my best to cut them down. Don't know if I'll be any good at that though.

Sunday, 20 September 2015

Cal didn't remember much after he'd stumbled out of Connie's office. In fact, he didn't remember much of the past four days at all (which could probably be attributed to his over-sleeping and over-drinking). The only thought that he did remember was that Ethan, Ethan, had epilepsy. As if things couldn't get any worse. No-one knew what level of damage had been done to Ethan's brain. No-one knew how much he would recover.

But at the first hurdle, Ethan was thrown epilepsy.

Cal took another swig from the bottle he was gripping and wiggled around his steadily cramping foot, staring at the blank TV screen in amongst all the crumbs on the sofa.

Ethan would have been mad at him.

Not anymore.

No-one could say he didn't listen to Connie. Under her instructions he didn't return to work. It just so happened that Cal had selective hearing and chose not to listen to her saying he should be with Ethan.

Ethan didn't need someone like Cal. Cal was the reason he was in this mess in the first place and Cal can't help get him out. It hurt Cal so much to see Ethan in that state. So what was the point? He had doctors and nurses and physios.

Cal wasn't important anymore.

Thursday, 24 September 2015

Connie had phoned him. Dr McKay had phoned him. Charlie had and Max and Lofty and...

Cal never picked up. He knew what they would say to him anyway.

"Ethan needs you."

"You're his brother."

"Ethan's not well."

"Come on, Cal!"

He didn't see the point of listening to someone else say the same things he's been thinking. It's not like he'd suddenly forgotten that he was Ethan's brother or that Ethan had brain damage.

They just didn't seem to get how hard it was. And even Cal didn't fully get it. After all, Cal had everything. All his motor functions, all his speech, a healthy body.

Ethan didn't.

Cal clumsily slotted the home video into the VCR player and watched as the images of his childhood played out on screen.

Ethan felt trapped. His movements were limited, his understanding of simple speech compromised and his overall mood was awful.

He could see better now, not everything was so blurry. But he was confused.

He was so, so, so confused and his voice wouldn't work. Nothing worked!

There was a doctor there that he was sure he recognised, but be couldn't remember his name. He'd said it multiple times to him but... nothing.

Ethan wanted Cal.

He knew, he remembered his big brother. He could barely move, barely respond, barely do anything!

Sometimes he woke up with a stuffy head but that didn't compare to the constant underwater feeling.

He knew Cal could make it better, but Cal wasn't there. And he couldn't do anything about it!

Monday, 28 September 2015

He switched off the television after watching a younger version of himself and Ethan play Twister. He remembered the day fondly, remembered letting Ethan win. His father had told him off for it (conveniently off camera) because he said Ethan shouldn't be used to winning all the time, because it wouldn't spur him on to work hard. Ethan was only nine. His mother had been proud of Cal, though, and Ethan was none the wiser, taking the victory as leeway to boast in front of Cal.

Cal let him. Ethan needed something to be happy about. He'd been teased by his classmates once again for his stutter and had come home crying.

And strange as it was, Cal missed those days. He could make Ethan happy, make him feel like he could achieve something (and although Cal was reluctant to admit it, Ethan always beaten him at Scrabble fair and square so he could achieve things without Cal's aid). He loved to see Ethan's eyes brighten and a smile spread across him face.

It was the same look he would occasionally observe since coming back to Holby. When Ethan cracked a particularly hard diagnosis, or when he beat him at chess. And the same look when he first started going out with Honey (and what a disaster that turned out to be).

He was a good brother back then. A good older brother. He had been told so by his mother and Ethan and he believed both of them.

With hours of home videos playing on his mind, Cal felt a type of determination he hadn't in a long time.

Now, he was going to be a better brother. Whatever it took to be there for Ethan he would do it. However much it hurt Cal to watch Ethan struggle, however guilty Cal felt, however horrible Cal was feeling, it didn't matter.

Ethan was his dorky, nerdy, sweet, innocent little brother and Cal was going to be there for him.

Because, yes, Ethan, had doctors and nurses and physios but there was only one brother. And even if Ethan didn't need Cal, Cal needed Ethan.

Guest: Your wish is my command! I'm trying to update this every two days so hopefully that will continue for a while :D!

Jinx999: I'm so glad you like it, it's lovely to hear that! Unfortunately, work is a long way off for Ethan; no-one knows (...apart from me ;D) what Ethan will be able and won't be able to do and how well his recovery will go. I will be sticking with the epilepsy and that will be explored, don't worry :)!